Another fight. Another night drive just to get away. As I drove, too focused on the intensity of my music to care where I went, I came across the most beautiful field I had ever seen. I parked and got out to look around. In the center was a pillow of beautiful black flowers. They were delicate yet strong, with tall wide petals that had streaks of gray. In the center of each petal there was a single red stripe. Droplets began to fall, sliding along the petals before dripping into the grass. I looked up, thinking it was raining, but there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky. I felt a droplet run down my face. Once I realized I was crying, I couldn’t stop. The tears streamed down my face, enough to water the entire bed of flowers.
A gentle hand touched my back as a voice as sweet as dried cranberries whispered soothing and encouraging words, urging me to let it out. When my eyes were dry, I looked up at her. She was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. Her dark brown skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. She wore a long black off-shoulder dress with small red flowers. She had a loose rope necklace. Her hair was a deep scarlet. Resting gently on her curls was an elaborate crown made of the black flowers.
“W-who are you?” I asked. She smiled.
“My name is Dahlia. What’s yours?”
“Terren.”
“Why were you crying, Terren?” she asked, delicately wiping the tears off of my face.
“Family is . . .” I searched for the right word. “Hard.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Can I tell you a story?” she asked. I nodded.
“The world used to be full of Spirits and Deities, led by a Deity named Genevra. Every living thing from the smallest fruit fly to the tallest redwood tree respected them. And the world was at peace, until one man craved vengeance on the Deities and Spirits. His name was Vancifer. He was a man made wicked by the recent loss of his wife. He had asked the Spirits for help but they had done nothing. Now he raised his daughter, a sweet flower-lover, alone. She was caring and helpful to everyone she met. The loss of her mother had hit her hard, but made it so she strived to help as many people as possible. Vancifer thought that the world shouldn’t be run by those who preached peace and balance yet did nothing to enforce them. He felt that his daughter alone was worthy of such power. He devised a plan to overthrow the Deities by using their one weakness, rusdian, a potent metal that could be found only at the center of the earth. The only way to get rusdian was through the help of a Deity.
“Vancifer went to the Deity of love, Althorie. ‘My daughter turns eighteen this year and I want to make her a necklace. But I am a mere librarian who can’t afford any of her favorite gem, rusdian.’
“‘I’ll take you,’ Althorie replied.
“And so Althorie brought Vancifer to the center of the earth. Vancifer took enough rusdian to craft the necklace and the weapon that would kill Genevra. They returned to the surface, Vancifer thanked Althorie, and they went their separate ways.
“Vancifer created the necklace and gifted it to his daughter. She promised never to take it off. Then Vancifer got to work, spending days melting down the rusdian and carefully dipping his father’s sword into it.
“One day while Vancifer worked, his daughter grew curious about what was keeping her father so occupied.
“‘Father!’ she cried, when she saw the weapon he had created. Her cry surprised Vancifer and made him drop the sword. A small explosion shook the house. Both father and daughter were unharmed.
“‘How could you?’ the daughter demanded.
“‘The spirits took your mother from us!’ Vancifer pleaded.
“‘She had an incurable disease! There was nothing they could do!’
“The daughter then ran away, sobbing for her mother, hurt that her own father had shown his true violent colors. She was so blinded by her tears that she didn’t notice the cliff. The necklace’s protection was strong, though it broke during her fall. The shards sprouted flowers. The enchantment had only half worked. The daughter would have died were it not for Genevra taking pity on her and providing extra magic to the necklace. The daughter became the patron spirit of the flower and all things calming.”
“What was her name?” I asked.
Dahlia showed me the pendant on her necklace, a bright red gem with black cracks.
“Why did you tell me this?”
Dahlia picked one of the black flowers and smelled it. She reached out the hand holding the flower toward my face. I smelled once and immediately felt calmer.
“For every destructive thing that happens” — she waved her hand over the wilting stem of the flower — “something beautiful takes its place.”
I stared in awe as two flowers slowly sprouted.
She gently tucked a flower behind my ear. “Remember that.”
Dahlia walked away, black flowers sprouting from where she stepped, as she faded into the moonlight.
I think about her every time I look at the flower she gave me. It’s been over a decade and it still hasn’t wilted. Although I’ve searched many times, I’ve never found that field again.
A gentle hand touched my back as a voice as sweet as dried cranberries whispered soothing and encouraging words, urging me to let it out. When my eyes were dry, I looked up at her. She was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. Her dark brown skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. She wore a long black off-shoulder dress with small red flowers. She had a loose rope necklace. Her hair was a deep scarlet. Resting gently on her curls was an elaborate crown made of the black flowers.
“W-who are you?” I asked. She smiled.
“My name is Dahlia. What’s yours?”
“Terren.”
“Why were you crying, Terren?” she asked, delicately wiping the tears off of my face.
“Family is . . .” I searched for the right word. “Hard.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Can I tell you a story?” she asked. I nodded.
“The world used to be full of Spirits and Deities, led by a Deity named Genevra. Every living thing from the smallest fruit fly to the tallest redwood tree respected them. And the world was at peace, until one man craved vengeance on the Deities and Spirits. His name was Vancifer. He was a man made wicked by the recent loss of his wife. He had asked the Spirits for help but they had done nothing. Now he raised his daughter, a sweet flower-lover, alone. She was caring and helpful to everyone she met. The loss of her mother had hit her hard, but made it so she strived to help as many people as possible. Vancifer thought that the world shouldn’t be run by those who preached peace and balance yet did nothing to enforce them. He felt that his daughter alone was worthy of such power. He devised a plan to overthrow the Deities by using their one weakness, rusdian, a potent metal that could be found only at the center of the earth. The only way to get rusdian was through the help of a Deity.
“Vancifer went to the Deity of love, Althorie. ‘My daughter turns eighteen this year and I want to make her a necklace. But I am a mere librarian who can’t afford any of her favorite gem, rusdian.’
“‘I’ll take you,’ Althorie replied.
“And so Althorie brought Vancifer to the center of the earth. Vancifer took enough rusdian to craft the necklace and the weapon that would kill Genevra. They returned to the surface, Vancifer thanked Althorie, and they went their separate ways.
“Vancifer created the necklace and gifted it to his daughter. She promised never to take it off. Then Vancifer got to work, spending days melting down the rusdian and carefully dipping his father’s sword into it.
“One day while Vancifer worked, his daughter grew curious about what was keeping her father so occupied.
“‘Father!’ she cried, when she saw the weapon he had created. Her cry surprised Vancifer and made him drop the sword. A small explosion shook the house. Both father and daughter were unharmed.
“‘How could you?’ the daughter demanded.
“‘The spirits took your mother from us!’ Vancifer pleaded.
“‘She had an incurable disease! There was nothing they could do!’
“The daughter then ran away, sobbing for her mother, hurt that her own father had shown his true violent colors. She was so blinded by her tears that she didn’t notice the cliff. The necklace’s protection was strong, though it broke during her fall. The shards sprouted flowers. The enchantment had only half worked. The daughter would have died were it not for Genevra taking pity on her and providing extra magic to the necklace. The daughter became the patron spirit of the flower and all things calming.”
“What was her name?” I asked.
Dahlia showed me the pendant on her necklace, a bright red gem with black cracks.
“Why did you tell me this?”
Dahlia picked one of the black flowers and smelled it. She reached out the hand holding the flower toward my face. I smelled once and immediately felt calmer.
“For every destructive thing that happens” — she waved her hand over the wilting stem of the flower — “something beautiful takes its place.”
I stared in awe as two flowers slowly sprouted.
She gently tucked a flower behind my ear. “Remember that.”
Dahlia walked away, black flowers sprouting from where she stepped, as she faded into the moonlight.
I think about her every time I look at the flower she gave me. It’s been over a decade and it still hasn’t wilted. Although I’ve searched many times, I’ve never found that field again.